


The New Deal

by gwenwifar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Drinking Games, First Kiss, Heavy Drinking, M/M, new deal, not the fun kind, the deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwenwifar/pseuds/gwenwifar
Summary: Heads up: I have now watched all I'm going to watch. As far as I'm concerned, the show ends at the end of episode 18. I seem to be driven, as are many of you, to give it a better ending. To that end, this casual little one shot grew in size and complexity. I'm not sure if it's done growing, but here you have it.Cas was taken by the Empty. How does he get out this time, and what happens with Dean when they see each other again?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester
Kudos: 6





	1. A New Deal

It was hard to tell, really, the Empty’s only defining feature being the absence of well, everything. Still, he knew where he was headed when he allowed himself that moment of happiness. He’d seen the Empty’s arrival, even as he’d placed himself between it and Dean, wanting his last moment of awareness to be filled with Dean. Also not wanting Dean to try anything stupid. But mostly the awareness thing. So, he was certain that he was now in the Empty and his life was over. Except… he was awake and aware and so, how dead could he really be?

It certainly looked… well, Empty. There was nothing to see, or hear, or be aware of, and so he turned into himself and let the happiness fill him again. He replayed the moment in his mind, let himself focus on Dean this time, without the distraction of Death knocking down the door or trying to time the Empty’s arrival. He had his fight face on, of course. His best no chick flick moments look firmly in place. They were in a fight for their lives. Still, they’d been fighting together for over a decade and Cas could tell that his words had rocked Dean to the core.

He was in love, and allowing himself to really feel it for the first time ever. So naturally, he speculated. Was Dean still thinking about it? Had Castiel’s words managed to get through to him and change his opinion of himself in the slightest? Was he feeling sorry for Cas right now? Grossed out? Did he miss his best friend? Did he still think of Cas as his best friend now that he knew how he felt? What if Dean had been hiding some feelings of his own?

He replayed the moment again, but this time he saw his thumb brush across Dean’s cheekbones, trace his lips as they parted ever so slightly in surprise. He saw Dean’s pupils blown wide, Dean’s breath hitch for a moment. He saw himself lean in, brush Dean’s lips with his own in the faintest, hardly there kiss. Barely a touch at all, but he could feel it anyway. He might have fought the Empty back if it was drawing him away from Dean’s kiss, he thought. He froze his mental picture right there, in that brush of lips, and felt the love fill him again, flow through whatever passed for veins here, and beam out of him.

Slowly he became aware of feeling uncomfortable, as if he’d been lying on the floor too long. How long had he been here now, dreaming of kisses that had never happened and never would? Had they fought Chuck yet? Had they won? Was the world safe? Was his family safe? Dean? He heard a faint echo, and found that he’d started pacing. He tried to stop. He’d made a deal and he meant to honor it. No trying to annoy the Empty this time. But he simply couldn’t be still. As soon as the worry took over and his mind drifted away from keeping his feet still he found himself pacing again. He had not expected to be conscious for this part. He sat on the floor, the love still filling him getting layered with anxiety and guilt.

A sort of deep sigh echoed through the space, and the Empty materialized into the shape of Meg. 

“I should be sleeping now, Clarence. Our deal is fulfilled and you’re here and I still can’t sleep. Why is that?”

“I’m trying not to pace. I’m sorry, but I don’t feel dead. I suppose I’m having some difficulty adjusting.”

“It’s not the pacing, Clarence. Something’s wrong. You... _taste_ funny. Too human. There’s a reason human souls don’t come here. They’re so loud, with all their loving and longing and worry.”

He could hear the cringe in her voice, and kept his eyes down, dejectedly looking at his hands.

“I said I would come willingly and I did. I can’t help the way I taste. Or feel.”

Meg’s form snorted derisively and shifted in the chair.

“You were supposed to be dead. Gone. Out.”

“I’m not happy about it either.” He growled, anger starting to rise up in him.

The Empty made the most dramatic gagging sound he’d ever heard. 

“This is the Empty. You’re filling it. Stop it!”

“Just as soon as I can figure out how.”

He flopped onto his back and tried to clear his mind, as he used to before he led Heaven’s hordes into battle.

“I’m not really an angel anymore, you know. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here. I feel things now I don’t know how to control. I’m not trying to disturb your sleep. I’m just not… empty. I feel full of so many things.”

Meg's hand went up, as if it to squeeze him, but then just held there, and no pain was forthcoming. 

“I should hurt you for that, but you did bring me Death. _Maybe_ you can be useful.”

Cas sat up at that.

“I can be useful.”

And now it was hope surging through him, drowning everything else out. Whatever the Empty wanted, it would require him to go back into the world, most likely into the fight. The fight wouldn’t be over yet, he could still help. He could maybe even see…

“You for Amara. That’s the deal. Get me Amara, and I’ll let you go. Permanently.”

"Amara?" He had not expected that. Was it even possible, now that Amara was in Chuck?

"Is it so surprising that the Empty wants the Darkness?"

The Empty had a thing for Amara? He could work with this.

“What if I fail?”

“Then I’ll bring you back. But not until you’ve learned. You didn’t suffer enough, anyway. It’s pathetic what you consider happiness, Clarence.” 

“For how long?” That was the important part, how long would he have? Everything else was details.

“Hard to say. Could be a few days, could be years and years. I’m going to wait this time, until you know the kind of happiness that overcomes everything you are. This… this is the closest to happiness you’ve ever been. But there’s so much more. I want you to know the happiness of saying it and hearing him say it back to you, like he means it, while you look into his eyes and see that he does. I want you to know the happiness of a perfect kiss. Of the first time he drags you to bed early and keeps you up all night. Of waking up in his arms some lazy morning with nothing to do but snuggle under the blankets and drift off again. Of telling everyone you know, and celebrating with them. I want it to become so much a part of your daily life that you don’t know how to live without it anymore, Clarence. And then I want you to experience the soul crushing agony of watching it all die with Dean. Then you too will be empty, and all too ready to get lost to the silence. That’s when I’ll bring you back.”

“But what if… What if Dean doesn’t want any of that?”

The Empty laughed in the way Meg used to when he was missing something important. 

“Then you’ll learn a different sort of agony, Clarence. But you’ll suffer just the same. And you’ll be just as empty in the end.”

For a moment there was silence, not the empty kind, but filled with a sort of numb grief, as if the Empty knew only too well where that path would lead him.

“Do we have a deal?”

Yes. Absolutely, yes. To whatever terms would get him back to Dean.

He nodded, and the Empty waved Meg's hand and went back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

What do you do when you’ve been lying to yourself for over a decade to avoid seeing what you can’t have only to discovered it had always been yours for the taking? If you’re Dean Winchester, you drink yourself stupid. Actually, if you’re Dean Winchester, you’re stupid drunk or sober, so what you do is drink yourself into a stupor. To this end, he had made his way to a pub, and made himself comfortable on the floor, behind the bar, with a case of his favorite beer on each side and all the glasses and bottles anyone could possibly want within easy reach.

He smiled to himself when everything was to his liking. Seemed he’d just found the silver lining to this empty world ending. There was nobody left to drag him out of here. Well, Sammy, but he was at the bunker, working on reading Death’s book. Too busy to come looking. Probably didn’t even notice Dean was gone. Cas would have noticed. Cas would have found him by now, and would probably be dragging him back to the Impala. Aaaaaand…. the smile melted into a grimace. 

He popped open a beer and lifted it up before raising it to his lips. 

Tonight’s game was, he was going to drink a beer for every moment he should have known better. He’d decided on beer because there were a lot of them and Sammy still needed him to beat Chuck. So, one beer for every lost opportunity. Every moment it was there for him to see, and he closed his eyes. Hell, those high school kids saw it and all they had to go on was the books. They hadn’t looked into Castiel’s eyes when he said he’d given up Heaven for him. Dean had looked. And then he’d looked _away_. Why? Why had he done it? What was he trying to prove? Who was he trying to kid?

Was it possible that someone who faced the worst monsters without flinching as a matter of course could be such an impossible coward when it came to facing his feelings? Or someone else’s if they were deep, and strong, and so very big? Sure, feelings like that can change you, change your entire life. But who said that had to be a bad thing? His life needed change. He could see that now. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, determined that he would see it all now. He owed it to Castiel.

He took another drink and made himself focus on the last time he’d seen Cas. What he looked like, the way his eyes filled with tears, the way he seemed so, well, happy, even as he died to save his worthless ass again. How many times was that now? It didn’t matter. Too many. He was hardly worth saving once. He drank down the last of the beer making himself remember how he’d looked and sounded when he’d said “I love you” and tossed the bottle away from him. He let himself feel the pain this time. The waste. All the things he could have had if he’d allowed himself to see the obvious.

Okay, new memory. He’d been thinking about Cas giving up Heaven, so he was going with that one next. He popped another bottle and leaned against the counter.

oOo

Tonight the game was, one shot of scotch for each time he’d stopped someone he loved from saying something that mattered. Well, until he passed out. He knew there were too many. There was a plan taking shape now, so he’d brought a few bottles from that bar he’d woken up in this morning and was in his own bed, where he could pass out in comfort where Sammy could find him easily if he was needed. He didn’t want to dwell, tonight. Just a quick acknowledgment of each time Cas or Sammy had needed to say something to him, and he’d refused to allow them what they needed because he couldn’t deal with it and he shut it down.

He hadn’t realized. He’d been pushing down words all his life, and it felt like safety. But he’d never had words like these before. Words burning at his throat, demanding to be said out loud to someone he couldn’t say them to, eating him from the inside out. He’d never dealt with the weight of all the things someone he loved died without knowing. Things they should have known. And now he looked back at every time he’d tossed “no chick flick moments” out at someone with words like this, how he couldn’t help but see the weight of them settle. So he took a shot, and let himself feel the kick.

oOo

Tonight there was real planning and that meant no drinking. He had a new game all lined up, but if it could wait until tomorrow. If they were still alive, that was. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be. He popped some aspirin and made himself stick to coffee. He was using Castiel’s cup because he had to stay sober, but that didn’t mean he could stop kicking himself for one night. It made the coffee feel like poison going down, but he made himself drink it anyway. Maybe he’d make the next cup the way Cas liked it, just for an extra kick.

He took the cup and headed down to the trap room, reminding himself to make sure Michael couldn’t see him. He hated sneaking around in the bunker. This was supposed to be their home, the only place where they didn’t have to worry about any of this. Still, Michael was an important part of the plan, so he would deal with it. It wouldn’t be for long anyway.

He never made it into the hallway. He heard the door open. Michael was in one of the bedrooms. He’d checked, on his way to the kitchen. Sammy and Jack were supposed to be waiting for him in the basement. There was no one left who should be able to get through that door. Or anyone left at all, as far as they knew. So he shot a quick text to Sam, and quietly approached the bottom of the stairs.

“Hello, Dean.”


	3. Chapter 3

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Could this really be Cas? It sounded like Cas. But Cas had gone to the Empty. Willingly. Did Chuck know Cas was gone? Was he trying to get some inside info by pretending to be Cas? He’d been here uninvited before, so it was possible, right? How could he tell?

Cas (or whoever) was just arriving at the last step when Dean heard the scrambling of Sam’s feet arriving from the other direction. “Cas” was distracted for a moment by the scuffle, and Dean took advantage of his distraction to pin him to the wall next to the staircase in one smooth movement. Just in case.

“Dean? What -”

But Sam saw the newcomer and stopped, unsure what to make of this. Cas had said he’d made a deal and was going willingly. Permanently. He even broke the no chick flick moments rule. He clearly never meant to come back. So who was this? Had they given their plan away? Was Chuck on to them? Had Michael caught on to their sneaking behind his back and called for reinforcements?

“What do you want?” Dean heard Sammy say, more roughly than he was accustomed to.

He didn’t answer. His attention seemed to be fixed on Dean. He had allowed himself to be slammed into the wall, and in the breathless moment that followed, to have his shoulders securely pinned by Dean’s arms, his wrists by Dean’s hands. Dean was… very close. 

“Dean -” he started to say, not sure whether he was answering the question, about to ask one of his own, or enjoying the fact that he had the opportunity to say it again at all.

“Answer the question,” Dean cut in with a snarl.

“I’m here to help.”

“Are you?” Dean followed up.

“Yes, Dean.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then the scrambling of more feet as Jack arrived as well.

“Dad!”

Sam hesitated for another moment.

“Is it? Is it really Cas, Jack? Are you sure?”

“It is, Sam. I’m sure.”

The awkwardness increased. Now would be a good time to take a step back and let him go, Dean told himself. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. 

“Dean?” Sammy tried to pull him out of it. “You can let go now. You heard Jack. It’s Cas.”

He wanted to, he really did. But he couldn’t bring himself to put distance between himself and Cas right now, no matter what he internally shouted at his body. It was all he could do not to get closer. And Cas… Dean had been watching his eyes all this time. They seemed to be, well, dancing, in a weird way. So he stayed where he was, and tried to fill the awkwardness with words.

“How are you here? How did you get out?”

“I made a new deal. With the Empty.”

Dean’s hold tightened, as his body braced for bad news.

“A deal? What deal? What’s the deal, Cas?”

“The Empty wants Amara. If I can get Amara to the Empty, I can go free.”

“What if we can’t? What happens then?”

He made himself ease his hold on Cas, mostly because he seemed to want to hold on tighter still. Tight enough to fuse him to his side, somehow. Tight enough that he would never have to wonder where Cas was or how he was doing again.

“Do you two want to be alone?”

By Sammy’s tone, Dean knew this was Sam’s way of telling him that he was crossing a shit ton of lines here. That he had exceeded all logical reasons and reasonable time frames for holding Cas against this wall some time ago now. And he needed to let go. He was giving him a way out here. Dean was supposed to chuckle now, pull back, and maybe walk over to the library, sit down and have the rest of this conversation like a normal person. 

Dean was not a normal person. This was not a normal conversation. And he couldn’t bear the thought of not touching Cas right now. He made himself release his wrists, slide his hands down to Castiel’s shoulders, still holding him back. 

“Yeah, actually. Alone sounds good.”

He could tell that was not what Sammy had expected to hear. 

“Cas?”

Bless his baby brother for checking, but Dean was really ready for them to be gone now.

Cas managed a quick nod without breaking eye contact, and Sam hesitated another moment, looking to Jack for a second opinion. Jack had a dopey smile on his face and nodded towards the hallway.

“We should go back to planning.”

“Planning, right…”

It was another moment before they were gone, and then Dean was asking again, urgently.

“What happens if we fail, Cas?”

“I’ll have to go back to the Empty. But not until I learn my lesson. Not until my reason for wanting to live is gone, and my heart is empty of everything that gives it hope.”

What did that even mean? Why weren’t these deals with the Empty clear and precise? Would a defined timeline be too much to ask?

“Cas?”

“Win or lose, Dean, I’ll be on Earth at least as long as you are.”

He recognized it immediately as a purely selfish reaction. He did. Why should he be relieved when Cas would have to face that kind of heartbreak? Without Dean to lean on? But the knowledge that he would not have to face another day that didn’t have Cas in it somehow, however tucked away into some dark corner he might be, was rushing through his nerves, and his grip on Castiel’s shoulders relaxed enough for his hands to start moving of their own accord. 

He made his eyes let go of Catiel’s, drop to the space between them for a moment. He could see his left hand slide across Castiel’s chest, staying just north of his nipple, to stop at his sternum, still holding him to the wall. He could feel a sort of tension beneath his fingers. Like the muscles were bracing for something. To push him off, maybe? He had to be getting tired of being pinned to the wall like this. But Dean couldn’t make himself let go yet. He almost wished Cas would in fact push him off. Maybe he could think then, maybe his body would listen to him again, do as it was told.

He let his forehead rest on Castiel’s for a moment, hoping it would somehow telegraph his muddled feelings to Cas. He could feel his other hand, the right hand, the hand he wasn’t watching, slide around to the back of Castiel’s neck, his thumb brushing gently against the underside of his jaw in the process.

“Push me off, Cas” he managed to rumble, but he had to close his eyes to do it and he could hear the desperate struggle for control in his voice.

He could have wept for joy when he felt Castiel’s arms move. His hands take position on Dean’s chest. But they were bunching up his shirt when they should have been flattening to shove at him. He opened his eyes, to find Castiel’s head tilting. Not with his usual humans-are-weird tilt. It was almost… Dean swallowed hard before he allowed himself to finish the thought. It was as if he was tilting into a kiss. 

And suddenly his lips were tentatively brushing against Castiel’s, his heart drumming in his ears and his brain reduced to silence for a change. The impulses he’d been working so hard to control took the upper hand. He needed to be closer somehow, to grip harder, and apparently the feeling was mutual because those fists in his shirt were pulling him closer, Cas was taking the kiss deeper, and neither one of them seemed to need air.


End file.
